Thursday, April 28, 2016

My Dog's Identity Crisis

I went outside this morning and was shocked to discover our Australian Shepherd, Lucky, using the cat litter box. Usually, he is a proud and prolific proponent of lifting his leg and peeing on anything that catches his fancy.
That has always been one of the things that I admired the most about him. I think that this is a guy thing and that you women probably will not understand this, but a guy’s capacity to pee standing up is one of our most cherished abilities. Lucky’s uninhibited urination, anytime, anywhere, is something that I can only aspire to. Alas, I am fettered in my ambition by the bonds of civil society and a chronically bashful bladder.

At first I was at a loss to explain Lucky’s aberrant behavior. Then it occurred to me - Lucky is self-identifying as a cat! That has to be the explanation. After all, there is a lot of this sort of thing going on now-a-days; men self-identifying as women; old people self-identifying as youngsters; even humans self-identifying as animals. And it’s a lot easier than you think. A fifty year old man only has to claim that he truly believes that he is a six year old girl and “presto,” that is how everyone is expected to treat him. Today, such a claim is called a “civil right.” When I was a kid, we called that “nuttier than a fruitcake.” But obviously, we were all ignorant and uninformed back then.

Like any good citizen, I started contemplating how I could make this self-identifying thing work to my advantage. Maybe I can self-identify as a young Native American woman with six kids and no job. I’m sure that there are a ton of government handouts, and maybe even some casino money, that I could be taking advantage of.

As I was pondering all of this, I felt something wet on my face. Suddenly, I woke up and found Lucky with his front paws up on the edge of the bed, slobbering all over me, trying to wake me up. It was all a dream.

I got out of bed to let Lucky outside. That’s why he woke me up. He really, really had to go.

With my head still foggy with sleep, I watched out the kitchen window as he walked over to one of the rear tires on my truck, lifted his leg and let it flow. I couldn’t have been more proud if I had been right there christening the tire with him.